


liebesleid

by Myrhee



Category: Fate/Grand Order
Genre: Angst, F/F, F/M, Female Protagonist, One-sided Ritsu/Mash, Romance, Romani-centric, Slightly episodic, Slow Burn, Spoilers for Solomon, slightly AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-10-12 20:13:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17474252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Myrhee/pseuds/Myrhee
Summary: Thusly you suffer, because you are loved.alternatively: on the doctor and his affinity with a dying world and gold irises





	1. rêverie [ prologue ]

**Author's Note:**

> hello~ please turn back if you have yet to finish the Solomon singularity. thank you.

 

2:37 AM.

Something familiar weaves through his gut as he stirs, heavily, from a less-than optimal sleeping position atop his work desk. He is largely unsure of what to make of the emotion, but it's strong enough to compel him to wake in full, albeit not without an enduring numbness in his arms that sends him reeling back with a start. He breathes in, sharply, with his later actions practiced and poised as the arm chair creaks and swivels beneath his weight.

While stretching surely did not guarantee a hundred-percent, it'd suffice as means to anchor his consciousness against the restless highs of unknowingly sleeping in - however, somehow, all these things come out as foreign and sluggish, as if his thoughts were compromised and he couldn't help but sit there, alienated by things as mundane as colored pens and candy wrappers and an empty coffee mug. There are papers, both crumpled and pristine, layered on top of each other across the desk before him, and a stack of folders dutifully line the further most right of the space closest to the wall; waiting for something, or was it someone?

 

For a moment he considers the conflict in what he remembers and what is truly there, until he spies a face peering through the sea of paper - it's an awkward smile, not his finest, but tolerable through the plastic lament-

 

"...Oh."

He spares himself a pitiful expression.

"Of course."

 

There, the world was different, _endearing_. Time behaved in a manner unforgiving to humans, and it functioned in years, months, days - quantifiable measurements that caused humanity to manifest their short, unadorned life spans with things as entitled as their very thoughts, desires, and aspirations. Here he is no different, a weary soul, nonetheless, but real and among them. Toiling through the blue-collar life proved never to be a bother when he had his hobbies to keep him afloat and sugar to lighten his spirits. 

But to think he'd gone to sleep on the job,  _in his office,_ when there were medical reports to be approved, which has since then been the most number of documents he's been handed in a very long time. Almost thirty and counting. They weren't even three months into the discovery of Singularity F, really, yet recruitment persisted up until the 48th candidate, or so they say, and it's worth some ponder at the very least. He's left to be impartial to the organization's reasons, though he hopes that the last few Masters aren't subject to mediocre treatment at the expense of their status as  _'extras'._  

And some of them were so young! Eighteen, at most, barely touching the cusp of adulthood, and yet already braving the winters of Antarctica instead of enjoying the beach or an early romance or whatever. 

He sighs.

 

Nevertheless, some merit was due for the cause that these Masters...that _Chaldea_ upheld. The world was in no capacity to correct such rogue mistakes like this, so there was a necessity. If at all, the entire ordeal would be up and over within a month or so depending on the nature of everyone and everything involved. But, really, that was him riding on some of the most vapid assumptions without forethought even as the image of Miss Marie's resentment burrowed further into his slacking form.

A cold sweat suddenly breaks out on his skin, "A-ha...I'd better get these done...huh?"

 

The doctor, while bemused at the idea of signing documents through the early morning, resumes to fish for his seal across the mess that he's gathered on his table, and its only until he's sifted through most of the junk when he realizes that it's nowhere to be had. He'd proceed to investigate the tiled floor underneath the table with a vehemence, almost excavating the darkness like some blind hooligan and more so when his head clumsily makes contact with the under-side, causing a resounding  _'oomph!'_   and a _'gosh darnit!'_  to filter through the hollowness of the clinic's four walls. 

A sort of shallow pain lingers atop his skull, dully fading into the backdrop, but the impact was enough to jostle his brain into recalling what he'd seen behind closed eyelids, at his most vulnerable -

_'no!'_

His dreams are drenched white, with the same, haunting figures lapsing through a crumbling space. His very being is stretched thin, fragile and transient, yet he still manages to regard that ghost in the distance as it continued to scream.

_'s t o p!'_

He feels too compelled to reach out to it, to coddle and cherish it, yet at the same time the very presence elicits an agony inside him, from his bones to his arteries, veins and capillaries. He can't stop. He can't- but why?

Even at a distance the sound of tears is an extremely vivid one, and whether or not it had been the ghost's sorrows or his, he could no longer tell.

 

Roman shudders once, fingering the crease above his brow as he willed the onslaught to cease. 

"Not again." he said, "...That makes it three."

 

Three times did this instance plague his dream, three and it meant  _something._ He couldn't dare think of what it entailed, but he'd been more inclined to believe in the delusions of an overworked department head when there was the prospect of being the victim of an Animusphere's wrath later in the day if he didn't provide her with at least ninety-five percent completion. 

"Y-yeah. That's probably it." 

With most of his fears placated, the doctor moves to stand from his position beneath the work table, pushing up against the chair into a somewhat feasible standing position, hands digging into his pockets.

Then, all at once, his expression contorts into one of disappointment upon retrieving the seal from the confines of his pants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we all have our different ways of coping right? this is mine haha. 
> 
> i'm not going for a novelization, per say, but this'll be a very long project consisting of five 'episodes' for each singularity plus one epilogue and one prologue, with our beloved doctor at the center of most. considering the way the source material is, i doubt that this'll even remotely end on a happy note. but regardless, there will be some fluff, though it might be painfully awkward.
> 
> anyway, here we are.


	2. grande valse brillante

 

9: 51 AM

 

For the longest time, Roman thought of the arctic mornings with a fondness uncommon to the majority of those around him; all of whom were more than likely to dislike the cold, sunless hours with a certainty that they may never understand the world behind the doctor's rose-tinted lenses. Not that there were many who knew him beyond what was expected of fellow coworkers, anyway. There was too much to be done, and too little leeway to bond with the superiors, especially not when they were considered more of an oddity rather than an enigma. Nevertheless, Roman delights in his mornings in a manner not unlike the rest of humanity, rearing the early day with four spoons of creamer in his coffee and an eagerness to see what happens next.

He's weird like that - a willing observer, almost always. 

 

The morning then, however, was something of an entirely unfamiliar disposition than what he's used to. With the arrival of the Masters, everyone appeared to shuffle back and forth at a restless rhythm, eager to finish what is required of them in order to accommodate Chaldea's demanding schedule. The had beens of an uneventful cafeteria and a lack of bustle was now a flock of new figures, some somber and unsure of their purpose there, others far more confident in a sense that their very presences excluded intimidation,  _power._ The previously simple affairs that included his coffee mug and the ensuing breakfast was suddenly a mock battle against tension, awkwardness, and an ungodly lack of sugar, for the kitchen staff were just as aghast as he was at the realization that all 40-something recruits burn through most of the pastries and cakes far too quickly for anyone's liking. 

In order to cope with his cravings, Roman opted to rely on the pile of confections that he hides in his office - aptly titled his 'secret sugar rations', SSR for short - for what seemed to be the hundredth time that very week. Considering the desserts were reserves for when he was feeling especially disappointed with himself, partaking in this 'sin' was never any easier for the doctor. It's an incredibly sweet but painful endeavor, though the lie in the situation was how he didn't enjoy stuffing his face in with fork-fulls of smuggled cheesecake in the comforts of his own office, without anyone fiercely scrutinizing him for his questionable dietary favors. 

He digs into the cake in both giddiness and guilt, each bite giving birth to new excuses for him to believe that there is _nothing_ wrong about this, none at all.

"The masters need the food more, anyway." he reasons, less to rationalize his actions, but more so to curb that petty resentment that threatened to rear its ugly head. "Rayshifting is incredibly taxing on the human body, and not to mention-" another lump of sugar enters his mouth, "-the energy and mental fortitude needed for continued rayshift training overwhelms most of them."

In the months following the plans to rid the world of Singularity F, the medical department saw a dramatic increase in handled cases with the bulk of their work concerning the side-effects of the masters' training. As the department head, he oversees most of the patients and beyond the lucky few who'd been assigned to team A, a good number of them didn't make it through a week of training without their body breaking down - physically, mentally, or both, each on a degree that scales in parallel to the time they're sent to Chaldea: the later the arrival, the more susceptible the master was. This'd been his only issue with the operation so far, and while he wanted to do  _something_ about it, there wasn't much to be had as a doctor who could only offer a pitying glance before being ushered to move forward, lest humanity lags along into its undoing.

 

 _' Most of them are so young.'_  

His fork traces the curve of the remaining cake in small, idle motions, later stabbing it with a resounding clink.

_' Far too young to be shouldering any of this.'_

 

Having been occupied by his personal concerns, and intensely so, the doctor is left to inevitably disregard the gentle knocks that called for his immediate attention from behind closed walls, and it wasn't until the presence beyond the door frame takes the liberty of swiping a woefully unlocked door open did Roman understand the gravity of his position, and how he'd get caught relishing desserts illegally when the sugar drought already drove part of the staff mad with some sort of pseudo-withdrawal, the director included. 

"S-stay back!" he screeched, brandishing the fork against the intruder as his office chair revolved to confront them. 

How this'd even amount to anything somehow managed to escape him.

 

As witness to his shame, Mashu stands there with a confused, if not disturbed expression. "Um...doctor?" 

The fork is hastily sheathed into his coat pocket. 

"A-ahaha...it's just you Mash, uh..." thoroughly abashed, his eyes move to rest on the fake skeleton halfway across the room. "Anything wrong?" 

 

There is an unsaid remark written across the face that the girl offers him in response, one that says  _'I'm sure that there's something wrong with **you**_ **,** _doctor.'_  but it remains unvoiced, thankfully, and a part of him wanted to believe in Mash's due respect for him as his unofficial ward and the slight chance that she too, did not know how to handle this anymore than the source did. Instead, her expression shifted into one that Roman is thoroughly familiar with- indifferent, and unconcerned.

"The director just issued a roll call for all head staff to immediately report to the control room." she says, each syllable too perfectly intoned, " The last of the master candidates was confirmed to be arriving within the next hour, so she's decided to conduct the orientation today. I've come to pick you up since you weren't responding to any of the transmissions."

 

Nevermind. This was far more mortifying.

"Ack! Oh god, I'm so sorry-! Let me just..!"

With appropriate haste, Roman proceeds to pick up the ID that laid neglected on his desk, close to the saucer of half-eaten cake and three haphazardly stacked white folders, all medical reports. There's a second's worth of pause as his mind briefly recalls the information that he'd glossed over the night before, and how they were the very last of the master candidates before it was far too late to recruit any more; two out of three have already graced the organization with their involvement a few days prior, with less than optimal training results might he add, but more so, doctor Roman remembers dozing off into the late hours as he mulled over the well-being of the one left behind.

 _'Ritsuka Fujimaru'_ , the file read.

The 48th master-to-be.

She'd be no older than 19 by the time she's fully integrated into Chaldea's grand scheme of things - a face among faces, and nothing too remarkable apart from her region of birth, having hailed from a city that was within close proximity to the real-world coordinates of Singularity F, or what it actually is beyond the footholds of Chaldeas and Sheba. To administer the orientation that day would only mean that Fujimaru would at best only receive a short, informal session with everything concerning rayshifting and servants, and if memory serves him well, she wasn't in the running for the best magic circuits amongst her peers; her's were hardly even optimal for the job itself.

 

If the masters before her were liable to instabilities after shifting, what more of Ritsuka, whose position in the project is a deliberately compromised one?

His expression tightens. 

 

"Doctor...? Are you okay...?"

His train of thought cuts on an abrupt note, although it was more of a product of his own judgment telling him to stop concluding, an emotion that only intensified as he realizes the concern that leaks through the gaps in Mashu's words. 

"I don't think I will be after the director delivers her world famous _'You're so useless Romani!'_ speech." he shrugs, sporting the smile of a man already too aware of his own incompetence, "But, you know me, I'll be fine."

The master candidate before him knits her eyebrows in a way that tells him that she's more than a little tentative to let this one go, but it'd been her resolute sense of responsibility, perhaps, that leads her to walk towards the door frame so that the doctor may follow suit. 

"Alright. We should get going then." she said.

The sound of her voice fading into the hallway motions him to leave the clinic soon after, not forgetting to lock the door, all things considered.

 

And lest he forget-

"Mash, you're not going to talk about what happened earlier with anyone else, right?"

Mashu stills, however briefly.

"No. I don't think I want to."

 

In a way, her manner of addressing things manages to put his doubts to rest, but not without wounding him in the process. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i sort of prefer calling our dearest kohai Mashu, really. it's cute and adorable. so i'll be using that from now on. NA's rendition of her name will be demoted to a nickname from here on out.
> 
> here's a note on my general posting schedule, btw: updates will be made every weekend. once at regular intervals, and twice if im feeling especially frisky (that includes today, stay tuned).
> 
> also, i'd like to send some thank yous to those who commented and sent me kudos. i strive to deliver you all the best~


End file.
